


Before the Warmest Touch (thanks guys!)

by ilyena_sylph



Series: Arden-Songfic [2]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-31
Updated: 2006-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Dick's not a total moron, after all. And assumptions really aren't good things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Warmest Touch (thanks guys!)

**Author's Note:**

> Because people begged, and waved pom-poms, and held my hand when I wanted to scream at the boy. [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/pervyficgirl/profile)[**pervyficgirl**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/pervyficgirl/) , [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/merfilly/profile)[**merfilly**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/merfilly/) , and [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/wachey/profile)[**wachey**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/wachey/)... thanks, gals. Soo very much.

  
It had confused Dick when his phone never rang--well, it rang. A few times, actually, but never with the right number (any of them) on the caller ID. He knew Roy had the number, after all, he hadn't changed phones recently. He'd figured Roy was just busy, taking care of Lian or something had come up that the Outsiders were working... but by the time the sun set on the 'Haven again, that didn't explain it. Roy should have called to yell at him about leaving, if nothing else, after all. He'd done that before. Repeatedly. And generally with some truly creative curses. Confused, he tried Roy's place, then his cell... and when no-one answered he nearly tried the Outsiders. He wasn't exactly on their list of favorite people at the moment, though, so he avoided that one. Besides, Grace would never stop smirking if he did call to check on Roy, and she _really_ didn't need the ammunition.

However, when he found himself seriously considering calling Tim to get Robin to call the Outsiders, he sighed, glared at the schedule that had him working in 10 hours, and decided to head for New York again. Whatever the hell was going on, it was probably better handled in person. Roy had caller ID after all, if he wasn't picking up there had to be something wrong. Or else he was gone, in which case it was better to _know_ so that he could--//do what, worry? Isn't that why you left the Outsiders in the first place? ...well, yes. But... it's Roy... I'd rather _know_.//

This time, it was Dick Grayson that headed down to a much more nondescript and legal bike than his Testrastratta and headed north. Nightwing didn't need to be doing more running around in the city that wasn't his anymore. The traffic snarl around Gotham made him curse bloody murder in four languages and take to the rocky shoulder just to get _around_ it, and the New York traffic was just about as bad. Thankfully, his fellow ( _former fellow!_ ) cops seemed to have better things to do than hassle one guy on a bike heading into the city, even if he was speeding. And how sad was it that he couldn't think any version of that word without flashing to yellow and red and the lethal curve of a bow and the glint of light off a broadhead? //You're hopeless, Grayson,// he told himself as he pulled the bike around the curve of the exit and headed towards Roy's apartment. He stowed the bike in an alley and headed towards the building, stopping at the buzzer. "Hey, Roy, it's Dick, let me up?"

His head jerked back, startled, at the crash that came through the comm and the harshly distant snarl, "Go away," that was barely audible for the distance that must be between him and the buzzer.

//What the fuck did _I_ do? I mean, yeah, I had to leave, but that's nothing new...// He eyed the speaker with a highly confused expression. "Roy, what the hell?"

"Go Away, jackass." Roy sounded just slightly not-sober, Dick noticed.

//...This does not make sense.// Dick shook his head, trying to figure out how things had gone this wrong in less than a day. It'd taken everything he had to come into the city last night and _go_ to Roy, and for it to be thrown in his face like this... for a few moments he seriously considered just walking away. //You know what? Fine. I'll leave, you obviously don't give a damn,// hovered in his heart, on his tongue... and he couldn't do it. He'd be proving every "mini-Bat", "junior Dark Knight", and "repressed fucking bastard" comment Roy'd ever made if he did. "Not a chance, Arrow-breath, open the door."

The response he got wasn't in English, and from the tone of the lilting liquid language, Dick was glad it wasn't, because he just _knew_ he was being cussed out. And if Roy was upset (or drunk) enough to swear at him in Dine, he needed to be in that door _right now_. One of the other residents was coming towards the door, looking at him warily, but he was in casual-dress clothes Alfred would let him out in and she seemed reassured after a moment. He stepped out of her way with a smile--and ducked in after her. She started to open her mouth, and he shook his head rapidly. "Look, my best friend's pissed off at me and I have no idea why. I need to go talk to him, okay? Look," He fished down into his slacks, "here's my ID. Now you know my _name_. I'm not trying anything." He kept his thumb over the serial number, though, as he showed it to her.

To his amusement, she studied it intensely. "I guess. Fine. Stay right there until I get in my door, though, Mister Grayson."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, understanding completely. He waited until she was through her door, then headed up to Roy's door. The redhead probably thought he'd left, by now... which didn't sit well. Roy was (obviously) upset enough already, he didn't need the extra fuel for that damned temper. From what he'd heard, Roy was nearly on full boil as it was. He touched the knob lightly, //locked, of course...// and dipped to pull a slim, black case out of his boot. //Lockpicks still in the boot... you are some piece of work, Grayson,// he thought at himself as he started working the tumblers. The pick slipped a bit, made noise--//shit//--and he yanked them back out just before the door was yanked open, nowhere near enough time to hide them in short sleeves....

"Did you _not_ get the point?" //Oh, he is _pissed..._ and I still don't Get it!// Anger and resentment and--//hurt? (What the... what did I do? It's not his birthday, not Lian's, not a holiday, not any anniversary I can think of he might be on about...)//--were as obvious as gang tags all over his lover's body. It was in the way he stood there with those (powerful) arms crossing out over his chest as he brought his hand back from the door, fists pushed hard into the curves of his elbows, day-plus worth of stubble in addition to the usual, green eyes flaring hot and angry. It was in the tightened, in-your face aggressive posture too--up on the balls of his feet for ease of movement, legs corded into hard muscle and apart some because he was so close to throwing that first punch, the harsh jut of his chin under the stubble and the tension in his shoulders that meant his spine was tight as wire--for whatever reason, Roy was spoiling for a fight... and Dick wasn't in the mood to give him one.

"I heard you. I just don't _get_ it--and are we really going to do this in the _hallway_?"

Roy's lips curled back in a pissed-off snarl and Dick had a ghost-image of Roy's shaggy, floppy hair falling around his face with a lurch of desire, the expression was so familiar. "Get in here, then," he said without a race of warmth but plenty of rage-heat and he stepped back out of the door, perfectly balanced and centered and dangerous. Dick couldn't help the way he reacted to the movement, centering his weight and his stride opened into a similar pattern before he could _force_ himself to stop and lock the door behind them.

He hadn't stopped quick enough, though, from the flare in Roy's eyes. //Oh, no. You are not baiting me into fighting with you. I... not you, too.// He shifted his posture deliberately, dropping his shoulders and turning his wrists up, deliberately looking _up_ into his best friend's eyes instead of trying to pretend the difference wasn't there like he usually did. //I don't want to fight with you, I don't understand,// he made his body say, despite everything screaming in the back of his head that it was stupid to be this vulnerable, that with Roy this angry he was likely to attack instead of listen.

"Roy... what's going _on_?" it was a desperate struggle to make his voice anything but Nightwing's in the face of that kind of anger, but... their other selves could stay out of this one. He watched Roy--and saw some of the aggression ease off //thank god//. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"You--" Roy's voice was loud and he realized it, from the shake of his head and the quick drop of his tone. "Are you just completely clueless, _Dick_?!"

He _hated_ it when Roy said his name like that, savage-edged and doused in nasty implications and bitterness like acid. "Apparently so, because I have--" he made _himself_ stop and breathe a second and calm down. He felt himself shifting foot to foot, hands flexing against his thighs. "I _don't_ know why you're pissed at me."

At the way Roy's eyes went to flames, he knew he'd said exactly the wrong thing. "I _thought_ last night was more than just a quick fuck for both of u--"

"It was! What the _hell_ makes you think it wasn't?!" He couldn't fucking _believe_ this. What in god's name had gotten up Roy's ass since he'd been there?

"Where the hell've you _been_ , then?"

"In the Haven trying to deal with this pair of meta punks that were trashing a third of downtown, like I told you!"

More of that liquid language in corrosive tones he didn't understand, but he'd heard Roy spit that phrase at him before. "If you're gonna insult me, do it in something I understand, Roy."

"Roughly: the fuck you did," his redheaded lover snapped back. Dick shoved down on the anger, confused _again_. "I _did_. I didn't want to wake you up so I stuck a note on the dresser that I had to go and to call me." He had the odd satisfaction of watching Roy's jaw drop in shock and his eyes go back to their normal shade for a moment. //I _told_ you I wouldn't just leave... I don't lie to you...//

Roy was just staring at him, the fight running out of him like water at something he must have been seeing in Dick's expression. "Dick... I never... There's no note," in this wanting-to-believe tone.

//You thought I did, you thought I lied to you... oh, bloodyfuckinghell.// "Yeah, there is... it must have slid or something..."

//No wonder you were so pissed, I'd've been _livid_... Shit. Damnit.// "I..." //oh, fuck this,// and he crossed the room in long fast strides and shoved himself up against his lover's body, feet on either side of Roy's and as close as he could get with fabric in the way. "I didn't fucking lie to you," harsh-voiced against his throat, hands tangling in his shirt, open and vulnerable and not giving a damn. "I _didn't_ , I swear to _god_ I just didn't want to wake you up..."

"Next time, _wake_ me," dark, still hurting voice in his ear, against his hair, and one of Roy's hands was tangling in his hair and pulling his head back and he just arched back with it, letting Roy do what he wanted as he looked up into those green-gold eyes, tongue brushing over his lips just before Roy took his mouth hard, kissing him deep and sure and oh, perfect....

He slid his hands up to the back of Roy's neck, missing the days when there was enough to hold on to and settled for twining his fingers together behind the nape of his neck and holding on, having to _work_ to get any kind of control of the kiss, of anything.... Roy's other hand (right? Yeah) slid down his back in a long, hard caress that wound up with Roy cupping his ass and _lifting_ him--//oh you are _not_ gonna treat me like a girl, Har--oh, nevermind, god, anything you want//--at the way the lift shoved his cock against Roy's through dress slacks and sweats and he let himself slide one leg up Roy's and wrap it up around his waist, part of his weight still on the ball of his other foot....

He whined as Roy tossed his head and broke the kiss, still holding him tight and _moving_ against him in all the right ways, and Roy barked a laugh. Dick looked at him--//when did I close my eyes?//--and for the first time tonight Roy actually looked okay.... He sighed in relief and nearly bit his lip at how that felt with Roy's body pressed so tight.

"I... believe you, flyboy, we'll find the damned thing later... Right now," and he tilted his head at the half open bedroom door with a something more demand than question written all over his face and Dick couldn't help but nod. "Yeah. Work in 8 hours, gonna be short on sleep, not the first time, _now_ ," and Roy knew exactly what he was saying.

The redhead was still going to pay later for _picking him up_ by the ass to take him to bed, though. Just as soon as Dick figured out something appropriate. Once he could think again.  



End file.
